


in any kinda weather (and what've you got)

by lovelyflowersinherhair



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23240767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyflowersinherhair/pseuds/lovelyflowersinherhair
Summary: “It’s sad that they couldn’t be there today,” she said. “Didn’t they want to see you marry me and Mummy?”“It was rather short notice,” he settled on, as he elected to bite his tongue and refrain from badmouthing the others, recognizing that Heather was a child and probably needn’t be privy to Daddy-being-mad-at-his-bandmates-for-grown-up-reasons, no matter how justified Paul felt his annoyance was. “I’m sure that they’ll be pleased for us, though. And we can see them when we get back from our honeymoon.”
Relationships: Linda McCartney/Paul McCartney, Paul McCartney & Heather McCartney
Comments: 12
Kudos: 7





	in any kinda weather (and what've you got)

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics stolen from the unreleased demo of "Heather" that was recorded during Mary Hopkins' Postcard sessions.

The wedding had gone off without much trouble, minus Mike’s train being delayed, and of course the deluge of fans that they had encountered during their day, and Paul had to say that he was happy. Sure, he was the subject of every single news-story to be found on the telly, and he was the headline of nearly every paper, but that was par for the course of being a Beatle. What mattered to him was that he and Linda had gotten married, that they had — officially — become a family: himself, her, and Heather. And the baby that was on the way, of course. It was true that they had married in part due to Linda’s pregnancy, yes, but he wanted to marry her, and be Heather’s dad. 

The fact that they were giving her a little brother or sister was icing on the cake. Heather was his daughter, just as much as any biological children he and Linda were going to have. 

“Daddy?” Heather asked, and he glanced over at her. She’d sat down on the carpeting and pulled out one of her colouring books once they had gotten away from the press and the girls outside, and settled in on a picture. He’d been happy to leave her to it. She was only six, after all. There was no need to force her to stop coloring so that she could help them with the packing. 

“Yes, luv, what is it?” 

“Were we really on the telly?” She questioned, her eyes wide, and he offered her a grin, electing to join her on the floor. “I know you said that we were, earlier,” she added. “But were you telling the truth?” 

“Yeah, pet, I was. Are you all right with that?”

Heather appeared as if she was contemplating his question, and he waited for her response. The truth was that even Paul wasn’t entirely comfortable with the spotlight being constantly on him, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, though he knew that the constant scrutiny was due in large part to the decision that he’d made to become a Beatle. Heather hadn’t made that choice, however, and if it made her uncomfortable in any way, he’d put things to rights for her. He wouldn’t stand for the press making his daughter uncomfortable, just because they were in need of a story. 

She nodded. “I don’t mind,” she said. “As long as it’s with you.” 

“Cor, luv,” he said, and he patted his lap, hoping she would want a cuddle. “You don’t have to worry about that, because the press know better. They won’t be talking to you or Mummy without me there, not if you don’t want them to. Is that okay?” 

“I’m glad you’re my daddy,” Heather said by way of response, and she crawled onto his lap, her colouring book and crayons coming along for the ride. She nodded. “Yeah, that’s okay.” 

Paul pressed a kiss to the top of her head, as she settled herself against him. Heather had taken a bit of time to warm up to him, but that was to be expected, and he was delighted that she had, especially when she had decided that he was to be known as her father. Regardless of whether it was official or not, he was more than willing to be known as her daddy. 

“What have you been drawing?” He asked her, as he tried to get a good glimpse of the book. “You want to show me?”

Heather giggled. “You, Daddy. Uncle Mike brought me it.” 

Paul inwardly sighed at the fact that his brother had gotten his daughter her very own Beatles colouring book, even though part of him was impressed that he had even managed to find one to buy, given how quickly their merchandise flew off the shelves. He supposed that it didn’t matter. Heather was happy, and he could stuff his irritation at her colouring himself and his fellow bandmates aside for the sake of her happiness. It wasn’t the colouring book’s fault everyone in the band was driving him bloody batty. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of these,” he told her, and he gestured to the book. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve done so far?” 

She turned to the page that she’d been colouring on, and presented it to him. “See, Daddy? I coloured you, and Uncle Ringo.” 

“That you did,” he agreed. “It’s a lovely picture. Very inspired colouring choices.” She wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him on the cheek. “I love it, poppet. When you’re finished with it, I’ll let you bring it to studio.” 

“I should colour one for everyone, then?” 

Paul wanted to say no. Not everyone deserved a Heather McCartney original. But for the sake of his daughter, he pushed his feelings of pettiness aside. 

“I think that’s a brilliant idea, luv.” 

“It’s sad that they couldn’t be there today,” she said. “Didn’t they want to see you marry me and Mummy?” 

“It was rather short notice,” he settled on, as he elected to bite his tongue and refrain from badmouthing the others, recognizing that Heather was a child and probably needn’t be privy to Daddy-being-mad-at-his-bandmates-for-grown-up-reasons, no matter how justified Paul felt his annoyance was. “I’m sure that they’ll be pleased for us, though. And we can see them when we get back from our honeymoon.” 

Paul didn’t much care whether John, George, or Ringo’s pleasant feelings about the wedding held much sincerity, at least not while they were directed to him, but he was going to be damned if any of them tarnished Heather’s spirit. He’d taken her to the recording studio a couple of times when Linda had been feeling particularly unwell due to the pregnancy, and he had been somewhat horrified when she had taken a shine to the others, though he’d done his best to be grateful that her affections hadn’t extended towards Yoko. Heather thought that he had the best job ever, making music with his best mates, and he didn’t have the energy to steer her away from her thoughts and into the depressing reality that was the true status of things at Abbey Road. 

“We’re going on one? A honeymoon? But I thought you had to work?” 

He grinned at her. “Oh, that? That’s just what I told the reporters and those birds,” he said. “They don’t need to know everything that we’re up to. We’re going to go to New York, what do you think about that? Stay in a fancy hotel? Eat breakfast in bed?” He shifted her so that she was facing him. “Maybe you can help me pick out my disguise,” he offered. “Would you like that?” 

“I do pick out good disguises.” 

“You pick out brilliant disguises,” he agreed. “What do you say, luv? Want to go check in on Mummy?”

“What’s she doing?” 

“She told me that she was going to pack,” he said. “But I think maybe she’s having a lie-in.”

“Why?” 

“I reckon the baby makes her tired,” he tried to explain. “Plus, it’s been an exciting day, hasn’t it been? Us getting married an’ all?” 

“And getting to be on the telly.” 

“We’ll try to watch and see if we’re on there,” he promised. “Before we go, if you’d like.” 

She nodded. “Yes, Daddy.” 

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she let out a giggle. “I love you, Heather, you and Mummy, I love you both.” 

“What about the baby?” Heather’s nose wrinkled in confusion. “Can you love it yet? Before it’s real?” 

“Yes, luv,” he said. “I love your little sister or brother with all of my heart.” 

“Just like me and Mummy.” Heather happily snuggled herself close to him. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I know you do. Let’s go check in on Mummy, okay? You can come ead,” he offered. “Unless you want to stay here and colour?”

She shook her head. “No, Daddy. I’ll come ead.” 

“Right, then,” he said. “I reckon I can carry you out there, what do you say? Want to bring her your pictures to show her what you’ve been up to?” 

Paul hefted himself to a standing position, taking care not to send Heather and himself toppling over in the process, and once they stood he took a moment to catch his bearings, both from the action of getting up from the floor (it wasn’t as if he was an old blighter, it was that he was positively exhausted from the stress he had been feeling due to the band, and the excitement and adrenaline he’d experienced when he had actually married Linda, and naturally he needed a moment to catch his breath) and to adjust himself to the fact that this was his life now. He and Linda were married — bloody officially legally wed — and that meant that he was — at the absolute minimum — Heather’s legal stepdad. Of course, he hoped that Joe was going to relinquish his rights and allow him to adopt her, but even without that last formality, Heather was his. She was theirs, and that made his heart thump uncomfortably loud. 

He had always wanted a family, of course. It was a major reason of why he and Jane had ended things, what with her insistence that she focus on her career, and his insistence that he wanted her to be what he deemed a proper mum. Paul hadn’t been against Jane continuing to work. His mum had been the breadwinner for their family before she’d passed away, and he wasn’t some bloody traditionalist wanker that was going to insist on the woman staying at home to bake bread and be at his beck and call. Jane had deliberately misinterpreted what he’d said, and how he’d meant it. 

He wasn’t bloody John, okay? He wasn’t planning on making his woman stay at home and do the hard work of raising his child, and then decide to put sod all effort into his relationship with her and leave her for some bloody bird who did daft things like primal screaming and ate George’s bloody chocolate digestives (sending him into a snit and possibly causing them to lose their bloody lead guitarist), and then proceed to spend his time bitching and moaning because the courts expected him to provide her with a settlement. 

In Paul’s opinion, John could have bloody well been done with the whole debacle had he taken two seconds to embrace the concept of critical thinking. 

But he wasn’t going to dwell on those things. Not today. 

“We have to be quiet, okay?” He instructed Heather, as they headed out of the parlour and in the direction of the master. “Mummy might be sleeping, and we don’t want to wake her up. Okay?” 

“I won’t wake Mummy up,” she insisted. 

“Maybe we’ll have a kip,” he offered. “Are you tired?” 

Paul was positively knackered, but he wasn’t going to leave his six year old to her own devices solely so that he could get some much needed sleep. That was what tea was for. Tea and other substances that he was well aware of existing but wasn’t planning on having with a child in the house. Mercifully, Heather’s first response to his question was to give him a rather wide yawn.

“I’ll nap with you and Mummy,” she whispered. “If that’s all right?” 

He nodded. “Cor, luvvy,” he said. “It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?” 

“The best day,” she insisted. 

“Cor.” Paul had to agree with her assessment of events. “It has been the best day. But even the best days can make people knackered.” 

“Like Mummy?” 

“Yeah, like Mummy,” he said, as they approached the bedroom, and he put his hand on the lever. “After we have our rest we’ll pack for our trip, okay?” She nodded. “You reckon Thisbe and Martha will do all right by themselves while we’re gone?” 

Heather giggled. “I think so. They don’t want to come?” 

“Ah, they don’t have a choice,” he said, and he ruffled her hair. “It’s okay, poppet. I’ve arranged for them to be properly supervised.” 

“By one of the birds?” 

Paul shook his head. “Remember Julian? You’ve met him.” Mainly because John had been skiving off his attempts at parental duties off on anyone he could, and Julian had gravitated towards his father’s songwriting partner. Poor Heather had just happened to be there, and of a similar age to the boy. “I’ve asked his mum to watch them.” 

“Are they going to go on an adventure?” Heather asked, her tone appropriately hushed, as he opened the door to his bedroom. Linda was soundly asleep on their bed, surrounded by their animals. Thisbe opened her eyes and gave Paul a mistrustful look, making him wonder if she’d understood what the girl was asking. He smirked. “Daddy?” 

“No, Cyn’s going to come here,” he said. “I don’t reckon they’d find that adventure very thrilling,” he told her. “Cats and dogs, they prefer staying at home, where they’re comfortable, if they’re not able to be with their owners. Sort of like how you’d prefer to stay here with someone to mind you if Mummy and I were both unable to? Does that make sense?” 

She nodded. “But that won’t happen, will it, Daddy?” 

“I’ll do my best to have it not happen,” he agreed. “You know that, don’t you?” 

Heather nodded. “I know.” 

“Good,” he said. “So long as you know. You want to sleep in your dress?” 

She giggled. “Can I?” 

“Just this once,” he told her, and he crossed the room and placed her on the bed next to Linda. “I certainly can’t see myself sleeping well in half of my suit, though. Why don’t you settle in with Mummy and think of what song you want me to sing while I put on something more comfortable?” 

  
  



End file.
